


The Sanderling's Nest

by HelenaKey



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A British one for that matter, Attempt at Humor, Banished Loki (Marvel), Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Extramarital Affairs, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Flirting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Chronological, Post-Thor (2011), Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, This is kind of a Romantic Comedy alright?, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaKey/pseuds/HelenaKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning Tony thought that his relationship with Loki would never pass from a casual thing. It was truth, he was an interesting man, and his good sense of discretion always kept the press from finding out about them, but he was not going to leave his wife just for a few nights of fun. However, when Tony's secret becomes harder to keep and his feelings towards Loki grow into something stronger, things start to take an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY, after so long, I finished this fanfiction. Writting this babe has been a real roller coaster for me, if I'm honest. This is an edited work, and I'm ashamed to say I got so frustrated while working on it the first time that I ended up deleting it :/
> 
> This is the first FrostIron I ever wrote and I'm very fond of it, even thought I know is not very original/complicated. I remember that when I started toying with the idea all I wanted was to writte something sexy and fluffy because I was tired of all the Tony/Loki angst. I'm not much of a FrostIron shipper anymore, but I really like this story so I decided to polish it a little and publish it again. Hope you guys like the final result!

When one looked at the Arcadian from the edge of Tony's terrace, it was impossible to see any part of it firmly attached to the ground. Because of the fog, the structure of the whole mansion seemed suspended in the air, as if absolved from the laws of physics. In the afternoons, however, when the mist dissipated and everything looked clearer, the ornaments of silver and gold that adorned its façade could be seen from afar, shining in the distance. The building was very old, and it had a Victorian design that differed greatly from all the other mansions in that part of the coast. To Loki, who had grown up in a castle full of treasures, diamonds and other shiny tidbits, it was a strangely familiar view.

He was a man with a mulishly vivid imagination, and for that alone, he found the view of the Arcadian disturbing. His imagination was one that couldn't avoid been assaulted by the most wild and scorched memories that inhabited his mind, constantly putting the bases of his mental peace in great danger. His composure was something that required of him not to think about anything prior to his life in Midgard, or the mortality of his newly acquired soul.

“You don't like it, because it reminds you to somewhere else.”

That was an averment, not a question. Loki turned his head to look behind him and stared at the owner of the house with bemusement. Tony stared back at him, looking as stoic as ever. He was standing behind a crystal table, carefully cutting lemons in slices to put them in the edge of their cups. The jacket of his suit had been removed, left forgotten in the back of a nearby chair, and he had rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

“That's not why I don't like it.” Loki replied, nothing in his voice or posture giving anything away. When he finished cutting, Tony cleaned his fingers in a small linen napkin and headed towards him, holding both drinks in his hands. He stopped right in front of Loki, blocking the view of the Arcadian and the conflicting thoughts it caused, and offered him the _margarita._ He took it, and mixed it a little more by shaking the cup before taking a sip.  “I simply don't like it for itself.” He responded, good naturally.

“You are shitting me.” Tony said incredulous, though his facial expression barely changed. He could be a very picturesque man when he wanted to, but despite his good sense of humor and his jovial personality, his face remained expressionless more often than not. It was just another of many strange traits of his character. “Everyone who comes up here loves that view.” Tony insisted, pointing at the old mansion behind him. “Everyone except you. Why?”

“I simply don't like it.” Loki replied again, and this time his answer came too quickly; his voice a little too sharp.

He always did that, almost without noticing, whenever someone asked him anything that could remind him of his past life. It was problematic, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The disheartening feeling that invaded him every time he was reminded of it was too strong to bare. Fortunately for him, Tony was not one to take offense easily.

 “… Do I remind you to someone else?” He asked, seating in the chair besides Loki's, facing the ocean. He thought about it for a moment, remembering the first time he saw Tony, while he was flying in his Iron Man suit during the opening of Stark Expo. Everyone in the audience had been cheering for him and his wonderful invention, and as the night passed by he encouraged them to get louder and louder, with a big smudged grin always adorning his face. The scene made Loki think about a rough silver armor that had nothing to do with Iron Man's modern design, and a thunderous voice shouting at an euphoric crowd, looking for praises and admiration. For some reason, the thought made him feel sick, and his instinctive reaction was to supress it.

“Yes, you do.” He answered unhappily. “Sometimes.”

“Someone you miss?”

“I wouldn't say that.” Loki made a strange face, curving his upper lip; as if disgusted by the idea. “I'm not much of a sentimental. I rarely find myself missing things.” He answered, not looking at Tony, but at the shining golden ornaments of The Arcadian. He didn't want to think about his brother or about Asgard, but wherever he went those thoughts seemed to follow him. Hauting him.

“By missing something, you imply that want it to come back to your life. But you won't change anything by sentiment alone. You only hurt yourself, without purpose.” Loki made a pause then, as if reconsidering his response, and when he started to talk again he was speaking more to himself than to Tony. “I have known this since I was but a boy, and yet…” He trailed off then, and never got to finish his sentence. Instead, he took a long sip from his _margarita_ and turned to look away, so the view of the Arcadian would no longer torment him.

“I thought you said you were going to throw a party today?” He said, hoping to change the subject. He leaned against the railing of the terrace and smiled widely at Tony, hoping that would be enough to lighten the mood again. Apparently it was, because Tony returned the smile. He took a few steps forwards, getting into his personal space. Loki found that he didn't mind.

“It's still early. We have time, before the guests arrive.” Tony assured him, taking the tip of his dark green tie between two fingers and slightly pulling at it. Loki did his best to suppress the giddy smile that tried to appear on his face. The present has priorities over the past, he thought to himself, and right then a present with Tony Stark was far sweeter than any memory about Asgard and its golden cities.

 


	2. The Gall of a Superhero

Tony Stark was a man devoted to the odd passions of praise and high regard. Surprise men with funny and wistful reflections and conquer beautiful woman just for the excitement that the sport produced him was a hallmark that followed him wherever he went. A childish form of eloquence and a distinguished lack of tact were two of the things that had made him famous in the highest circles of society, and while he was most pleased about those aspects of his personality, the political press and thereby the whole country usually frowned down at them. They didn't like that such an important figure as Iron Man had the gall to be so reckless and unstable (that's what they normally called him in the newspapers) as the one Tony Stark.

Tony had learned to hide from them (from the interviewers and paparazzi, and the masses' eye in general) in order to avoid a mediatic scandal; and in the worst case, a political dilemma. He never quite managed to control himself while he was wearing the Iron Man suit; the screaming crowd, the blaring music and the public displays were something that he could not renounce to. However, he began to stay low in social environments, trying his best to keep his various conquests and lovers out of the nation's constant scrutiny. It was strange to him to hide like this because he had never been discrete about his personal life; but now that he had married Virginia Potts, it seemed like a wise thing to do.

This austere behavior was a constant problem in Tony's day to day life. Keep his alcohol intake in a normal level, be nice and polite with all the people around him, and make his best to not flirt or dally with a glaring beauty that wasn't his wife made all the galas he attended something boring and uneventful. Something that he had once enjoyed greatly had become just another instrument politicians used to control him, and not ready to give up before them he had started to avoid crowded congregations.

Moved by the anger that this censure towards his person made him feel, Tony had decided to purposely boycott the gala of that night, and he only changed his mind in the last moment, when Pepper had told him that his presence was the only thing that would make the evening enjoyable for her. Still, he came late to the affair and in a terrible mood; long after the guests pronounced a speech in honor of their host and the time for him to make a toast came.

The place was full of people; all of them foreign businessmen who had come to New York to close contracts with Stark Industries, and he didn't knew a single one of them. He had never met these men before, and he was not interested in meeting them, either. Tony didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment, and he had never liked to socialize with the conservative elders that controlled the companies with which he usually had to negotiate.

He had been walking between those old suited up men with a glass of scotch in his hand, trying to avoid detection, when he first noticed a group of people turned towards the door, staring at something with interest. Tony walked closer to see better. A man was standing between them; a tall, slender and good looking man. With his head tilted back, the stranger pointed his black walking cane towards his audience several times, giving them an impish smile. He seemed to be telling a story, but Tony couldn't hear what he was saying. 

As soon as he caught a glimpse of him, something inside Tony sparked to life, forcing him to look away almost immediately. He stopped abruptly at the buffet table, leaned over and pointed to the waiter with strange concentration a funny looking shrimp to put on his plate. He purposely ignored the gathered group and that unknown feeling of contraction that had suddenly appeared at the bottom of his belly. His plate was full right away. 

A few minutes passed, and disturbed by the feelings the stranger was causing in him, Tony decided to sneak out of the bar and started to look for Pepper _._  She was busy making of hostess to a group of Japanese contractors that didn't speak English. Tony tried to make up an excuse to steal her away for a while and spend the night with his wife, but she shook her head quickly at him, and after muttering a silent 'sorry' she turned on her heels to follow their guests to the terrace. He was left behind in the crowded lounge, with not a single person to talk to in the immensity of that reunion, and for a moment he had the strange impression that he was all alone in the world.

 

* * *

As he made his way through the commotion of the party, Tony couldn't help but reproach himself for coming to a place where he didn't want to be just to make Pepper happy. He disliked all the guests and even when she was the only person with whom he wanted to talk right then, he was first and foremost trying to avoid an encounter with his wife. Her rejection had left him in a bad mood, and he didn't want to be anywhere near her. Some minutes ago he saw her talking with one of the Japanese representatives again, trying to gain him with her cheeky business eloquence; the one she only used during board meetings and live interviews. To move away from her, Tony found refuge near the long appetizers table, where a waiter was serving Boudreaux wine in the vessels of three quests. By his gestures and facial expressions, he seemed to be talking about the rare quality of the beverage.

“Good night, sir.” Another waiter greeted him when he noticed him standing there. “What can I get you?” He asked, gesturing to the various bottles of liquor displayed in front of him. Tony arched an eyebrow, looking at the counter; by the brands they seemed like good wine, but the harvest were certainly not the best. If he was getting drunk, he wanted to do it with something good. 

“You know what, I'll just…” He started, but before he could finish, he tilted his head to the side, catching a glimpse of Pepper looking at his direction. He got to his knees almost immediately and hid behind the table, hoping that she hadn't saw him. He stayed there for a few seconds, ignoring the bewildered look the waiter was throwing at him. He cursed under his breath when he held his hands up and saw that they were covered in grime; whoever was in charge of cleaning the lounge hadn't done his job all that well.

He peaked over the table, and just after making sure that Pepper was nowhere in sight he stood upright again. “A Vodka Tonic would serve.” He said, rubbing his hands against his pants to get the grime off. The waiter nodded at him, eying him for a few seconds before starting to look for the beverage's ingredients. It was in that moment, while waiting for his drink to be prepared, that a deep yet calm voice slid down Tony's neck, making him shiver.

“One would think that someone who has the gall to call himself a Superhero would be braver than this.” Was what it said. It sounded amused. Tony frowned for a moment, and turned to find a man standing beside him. He was tall (so tall that Tony had to bend his neck to look him in the eyes) and he was holding an elegant walking cane in his right hand. When he caught sight of him Tony's eyebrows, soberly lacking interest until then, faltered up in surprise. It was the man he had been staring at a while ago, before going to talk with Pepper.

“… What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. The stranger took a long sip of his beverage (a cup of red wine, it seemed) and his smile widened even more, almost reaching his eyes. His voice remained neutral, however; and there was not a single hint of laughter in it.

“I mean, that most people would not believe that, of all things, Tony Stark is afraid of his own wife.” He tilted his head to the side, pointing at the place where Pepper had been just seconds ago with his walking cane. Tony pursed his lips in a nasty way; probably not for embarrassment, but for nuisance. He had never been fond of strangers making guesses about him, especially when they had to do with his marriage.

“I'm not afraid of my wife. I'm just…” He started, but didn't get to finish his sentence. At the last moment, a door was opened in the other side of the lounge, and Pepper came out of it along with the French representative. It seemed that she had reserved this particular night to work with their public relationships; the mere though made Tony cringe. At seeing her, he got to his knees once again; a reflex action that, once his wife was out of view again, he deeply regretted.

“Excuse me, you were saying?” Came the hussy reply, and Tony growled under his breath. He looked up, trying not to mind how much dirt had got into his suit, and found the stranger looking down at him, still smiling.

“Yeah, I'm hiding from my wife.” He admitted, standing upright and shaking the grime off his knees. “What are you going to do? Sell the story to a tabloid?” Tony turned to look at the waiter again, and found out that by now his Vodka Tonic was ready and waiting for him. He reached it across the table and took a long sip.

The stranger laughed at the retort; it was a low and very nice sound. “I am known to be cruel, but I'm not _that_ vain.” He said. Tony frowned slightly at the choice of words; his way of talking might not have been the most elegant one, but he could truthfully say that he had never heard anyone in New York speaking like that. This guy was British, though, if the strong accent was anything to go by; he figured all British men talked like that.

“Hmm, funny.” Tony said, leaning against the table. He looked intently at the man, then; the way his thin, red lips curved when he smiled, the long thread of black hair falling across his shoulders, and the green (strangely bright) eyes that looked down at him with amusement. Once again, he felt a contraction at the bottom of his belly - a spark of emotion running down his spine. He fought the urge to smile at the stranger, and as a feeling of excitement settled down on his body, he decided to stay there for a while longer, just until Pepper found him.

“Enlighten me, then. If you are not afraid of her, why are you hiding?” The man asked, leaning over his walking cane.

“Let's just say she's been a bitch to me the whole night, so… I'm paying back with the same coin.” He said with half a smile, raising his drink in the air as if he were making a toast. The stranger looked impressed by his response, but didn't said anything about it.

Tony turned to look at the three guests that had been gathered in the appetizers table before them. All of them, well familiar with good manners, raised their glasses. They warmed them between their hands for a while, and then retained a long sip in their mouths; they exhibited their faces one to the other, expressing high concentration at first, then a surprised admiration, and ended up loudly proclaiming praises for the beverage. Tony wondered if they knew anything about wines at all, because there was a reason why he didn't want to drink those.

“So, what's up with you, Shakespeare?” He asked, turning to look at the stranger again. He frowned at Tony, not understanding. “What are you doing here? I don't mean to be rude, but you are in one of my parties and yet I have no idea who you are, or who are you working for. I have to say, that makes me a little nervous.” He said, shaking his head for emphasis and taking a short sip from his drink.

The man narrowed his eyes at him, pursing his lips. “I'd rather not say.” He responded simply, drinking the rest of his beverage in one gulp, and leaning over the table to ask for another. He pointed at one of the wine bottles in the other end of the table, not even opening his mouth to ask for it, and the waiter hurried to comply.

“Come on.” Tony protested, taking one of the _canapés_ displayed over the table and putting it inside his mouth. He chewed for a few moments, and swallowed. “Between you and me, _I_ should be the cautious one, not you. Unless you too have a public reputation to maintain… which I doubt.” The man arched an eyebrow, tilting his head backwards, but didn't respond anything. Then something occurred to Tony, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You aren't from the press, are you?”

At hearing this, the stranger actually laughed, as if bewildered by the question. “I can assure you I'm not here to stalk you, Mr. Stark.” Tony raised his eyebrows, then, prompting him to continue. This time, the man's laugh was humorless – a sound almost bitter. He didn't seem pleased by this interrogation. “Let us say I'm on vacations… some very long, _permanent_ vacations…” He answered simply, not looking at Tony.

“Another victim of the system, eh? Poor bastard.” He said, half smiling. The man turned to look at him with confusion. “You know… unemployed?” Tony replied, as if it were obvious. The stranger's eyebrows faltered up, caught between surprise and amusement, and he started laughing again. Tony's smile widened even more, feeling rather proud of himself for causing that pleasant mirth.

“So, if you are unemployed, how did you get in-”

“How long have you been married?”

Tony frowned at the sudden change of subject, not missing how the man was becoming agitated by his line of questioning. In any other time, with any other person, he would have become suspicious; he would have been worried about what this man wanted from him. He most definitely would not have dropped the matter until getting some satisfactory answers. But that night he found himself thinking not with his usual level headedness, but with some other more fundamental, primivite parts of the brain. So he just forgot about the matter, and smiled; one of those cheeky smiles that always appeared on his face when he found someone good looking enough to call his attention. Why was he using it with a man all of a sudden, he didn't know, but he didn't question it either. “Five years, six months, three days and… five hours.” He responded, pausing for a moment to look at his clock. It was marking the two of the morning. 

“So you are counting?”

“Sure I am, kiddo.”

The stranger placed his empty cup over the table, and then silently pointed at a corner of the room, a hint of amusement gleaming in his green eyes. Tony turned around to follow his gaze, and found Pepper lingering close once again. This time he just bent a little, hiding behind the table but not actually kneeling, and only stood upright again when the stranger gave him a subtle signal to let him know she was walking away.

Tony took the last sip of his drink, placing it over the table, and automatically ordered another one. It was the fifth one of the night; he was breaking his rule of moderate drinking again. The stranger turned around to lean against the table, not minding the annoyed looks the waiters threw at him, and took a long sip from his cup of red wine. “Five years of marriage…” He mused out loud, seemingly lost in his thoughts.  “I couldn't do that.” 

“Well, you figure… you sleep one third of your life, so that knocks out like one year of marriage right there, and you gain like three in exchange.” Tony said, smiling, once again coming out with one of those wistful retorts that made lesser men look up at him and his so called _eloquence._ “So, you know, I'm just a baby at marriage. In theory, I _can_ speak correctly, but occasionally I still get to babble nonsense.” The stranger laughed at the joke, and once again Tony felt his chest swollen with pride.

Soon they both finished their drinks again, and Tony leaned over the table to ask for two glasses of whiskey; one for himself, and the other one for the stranger. “For a happier marriage.” The man said, taking the offered glass from his hand and raising it in the air. Tony shook his head a little, smiling, and held up his as well.

“Cheers to that, eh…” He made a vague notion with his hand, realizing that it was time for proper introductions to be made.

“Loki.” The man responded simply, giving a slight nod.

“Yeah. Cheers to that, Loki.” Tony said as they toasted, smiling a little at the curious name. It was uncommon, but it certainly had a nice ring to it.

 


	3. Tiny Fraction of a Soul

That day, Tony and Loki felt that there was something different about them.

In a couple of hours the 50th anniversary of Stark Industries was going to be celebrated in Tony's living room, and it was his responsibility as CEO of the company to be the host of the event. The occasion had, indeed, appeared as a calamity on their way, because it was celebrated in the Malibu House and during the weekend; right in the moment and place in which they normally saw each other. It was also a great cause of alarm for Loki, who had came to spend the afternoon in Tony's beach house without knowing that his wife was there, making the final arrangements of the party.

When the woman saw him in the porch of the house, however, she barely gave him a glimpse, and thinking that he was one of her husband's associates, she instructed him to go upstairs, to the studio where Tony was working. Little did she know that the man in front of her had memorized the way to the studio weeks ago, or that during the last month he had spent more time in that house than she had in an entire year. Tony, for his part, was much more nervous because of the incident, and when he saw Loki entering the room he practically jumped out of his chair. If the outburst had been inspired by fear or by surprise, Loki couldn't tell.

At the beginning he had been angry, maybe not at Loki but at himself for been so careless, but when it became obvious that Pepper didn't suspect anything and that no matter how close they had been they were not going to be discovered that day, Tony actually tried to apologize. Later, after a long but quiet discussion, he asked Loki to stay in the house during the party's reception, so they could both sneak out of the event once his obligations as host were fulfilled. Loki had accepted the offer, feeling just a little unsettled by Pepper's proximity.

 

* * *

While they waited for the reception to start, Tony sat over the old looking couch that was placed in the corner of the room and let out a tired sigh. They had settled on the last chamber of the hall; a large corridor that bordered the garage and overlooked the sea, as far from the living room as possible. Their conversation had been spinning around a strategy that would allow them to sneak out of the party, out of the house and finally out of the cliff were it was placed without Pepper noticing. They were both drinking scotch.

Loki was standing in front of Tony, looking over the books of his father's old library. He was dressed in a nice tailored suit, and a walking cane was hanging from his right hand (it was an item that, Tony knew, couldn't be more than a vain ornament, because it was impossible for someone as young as Loki to suffer from anything resembling back problems). For the last fifteen minutes he had been objecting against the last part of the plan, insisting that it was gullible to think that they could escape through the front door without anyone noticing. The paparazzi and interviewers that would most likely be standing in the front yard, waiting for a public figure to come out, would certainly not be quiet about their escape.

It was in that moment, as he lay carelessly over the couch, watching Loki messing around with his father's old things, that Tony started to feel something different. It was a strange and yet soothing sensation, just slightly warm, that he could sense in the environment, in the old chamber, and in the very air he breathed. He liked it, somehow, but he couldn't tell what it was. What it meant. It was just there, hanging in the air, making him both happy and wary at the same time.

Loki pulled out one of the books from the library (an old looking volume that had in the cover one of the first models of Henry Ford's automobiles) and started leafing through its pages. “These are all of your father?” He asked, putting his walking cane aside so he could hold it with both hands. Loki was always very careful with books, especially when they were very old. He was one of those persons who made everything slowly but gracefully; putting all their effort in details that people more careless like Tony wouldn't even notice. Even when it wasn't a virtue he would have liked to posses himself, the Tony found that aspect of his Loki's personality endearing.

“Were.” Tony responded, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on the couch. “Now, I guess they are mine.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not really.”

“They can't possibly be yours, then.” Loki turned around, quickly closing the old volume, and smiled at him. It was one of those nice but cocky smiles that always made something stir in Tony's chest; warming him in the inside. He found himself grinning back without meaning to.

“You mean, a book is not really yours unless you've read it?”

“How can a book be yours if you don't even what it's about?” Loki responded, carefully putting the book back in its place on the shelf.

“What if I paid for it? Doesn't that make it mine?” Tony crossed his arms above his chest, then, sitting upright on the couch. At hearing this, Loki actually huffed out a laugh. It was a short lived sound, that probably died so quickly to prevent Tony from taking offense.

“That is your answer for everything. Why are you always thinking about money?” Loki asked, smiling but with a deep frown on his face. He took a few steps forwards, getting away from the library, and stopped right in front of the couch, so Tony would have to bend his neck to look up at him.

“My world spins around money, baby. The day I stop thinking about it is the day I'll fall into bankruptcy.” Tony responded, and a little smirk that showed a couple of his front teeth appeared on his face.

He remembered, then, the various women that had been jumping in and out of his bed before he met Loki. How they always got excited over his money and expensive cars; over the large amounts in his checks and the pricey gifts he could buy with them. He also recalled that they always got more demanding as time passed by. They didn't care about him, or about what he might or might not have felt towards them. They only cared about his last name, his fortune and his Iron Man suit. Tony wondered if Loki was any different than those women. Suddenly, he tasted something sour and bitter in the back of his throat, and a small but annoying knot appeared in his low stomach.

“You didn't like your father very much, did you?” Loki asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. Tony looked at him up and down, as if watching him for the first time. He looked at the lined trousers of his suit and its light shoulder pads; how the green scarf around his neck fell over his chest and stomach. How he stood regal and straight before him, looking down at Tony with eyes full of interest. He squirmed on his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“… No, I didn't.”

“Why?” Loki asked, in a deep and silky voice that made a shiver run down Tony's spine. He grimaced, seeming unsure of what he had to say. He would have liked to tell the truth, but when it came to his father that was something that never came out easily.

“… I don't know.” Tony started, still in a reticent voice. “I suppose I resent him a little.” He he said, turning his gaze down and away from Loki. “We all resent our parents to certain point. For different reasons.”

“So you think it's normal?” Loki looked strangely serious now, and his eyebrows pulled together in something that wasn't quite a frown.

“Of course. Everyone's parents fucked them up, somehow. Rich kids' parents gave them too much. Poor kids', not enough. Too much attention, not enough attention.” Tony insisted, sounding so sure that one would thing this was a matter of public knowledge. “They either left them or they stuck around and taught them the wrong things.”

“I see…” Loki stared at him for a moment, strangely quiet. When the only thing that Tony did was close his eyes, sinking deeper into the couch, he nodded slightly and dropped the matter, not trying to push it. He placed his now empty glass in the small coffee table in front of the window, and silently came to sit beside Tony, slightly brushing his shoulder. As he moved, the old black fabric with which the couch was lined up started to grind.

They both stayed silent for a while, suddenly very aware of how Pepper's heels (who was angrily pacing on the top floor) made a tapping noise on the ceiling. It made Tony a little nervous, but Loki saw it as a confirmation that she was not coming down there anytime soon. He sat more straight on the couch and placed his calves between Tony's knees, so his legs would swing over his thighs. Tony let him do so, not moving an inch to get closer, but not getting away either.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” He asked after a while, putting a hand over one of Loki's calves. At hearing this, the young man smiled widely, as if someone had just told him a good joke. He didn't out right laugh at the question, thought. He knew better than that.

“Not really. But… I do find the idea interesting.”

“Yeah, right… Well, a lot of people talk about pass lives and things like that, you know? And even if they don't believe in it most people have some kind of notion of a... soul, right?”

“Yes, I suppose they do.”

“Ok, well, this was my thought. 50,000 years ago, there are not even a million people on the planet. 10,000 years ago there's like, two million people on the planet. Now, there's between five and six billion people on the planet, right? Now, if we all have our own, like, individual, unique soul… where do they all come from? You know, are moderns souls only a fraction of the original souls? Is that why we are being so cruel lately? Because our souls are these tiny fractions of what they used to be?”

“… I don't know. I'm not sure… I don't…” Realizing that in his confusion he was only babbling nonsense, Loki suddenly fell silent. Tony started to laugh, and he felt a slight vibration travel through his chest and shoulders. The smile on the man's face showed all his white teethes, and the small wrinkles around his eyes stood out a little more.

“I know, it's a very strange thought, but… it kind of makes sense, doesn't it?” He asked good naturedly. Loki nodded slightly with his head, but realizing that he wasn't understanding Tony's babbling as well as he normally did, he decided to stay silent.

He put his forehead in Tony's collarbone, muffling a giggle, and stayed silent. A hand came to rest in the back of his head, entangling its fingers between his dark hair; it started to play with them, spinning them around the forefinger, until the black locks became small curls at the tips. Loki breathed deeply in, hearing attentively a soft heartbeat in Tony's throat; it was strangely comforting.

“… Do you love her?”

The question came unexpectedly, even for Loki himself. Whether it was because of the sudden silence in the room, or for the heaviness that the inquiry itself carried, his words seemed to ring loudly between the white marble walls. When he heard it, Tony's body went completely still, and the hands that had been resting on Loki's head pulled away quickly, as if they had been burned. Loki cursed himself silently; he wasn't supposed to ask that type of things.

“… What kind of question is that?” Tony asked, in a strangely stiff voice. His shoulders and back were hard and rigid, and his jaw was as tense as an arc's thread. At the beginning Loki didn't know what to do, but then he pulled away as well, and looked at Tony straight in the eyes. He couldn't take his question back now, so it was better to be honest about it.

“I don't know… I think that if you loved her you would not be here with me.” He said, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Tony's hands fisted at the arms of the couch, and his throat tightened visibly. He didn't move though; he just stayed there, looking at him. Almost glaring. It crossed Loki's mind that he should probably stand up and get away from Tony, but something kept him from doing so. 

“… Anthony?” He called, when the man refused to answer. Tony looked away for a moment, and slowly rubbed his temples with his right hand. He took a deep breath, and when he turned to look at Loki again, he seemed defeated; as if he had just lost an internal battle.

“… No, I don't love her.” He responded, and the lack of inflexion in his voice was clearly on purpose; he didn't want to show or say something that he would probably regret latter. “At least, not in the way I should…” He added quickly, as an after thought.

Loki stayed silent for a moment before standing up. He sat on the couch again, keeping his distance this time. His lips were narrowed into a thin line and he was looking at Tony with a purposely blank expression. “Then, why did you marry her?” He asked, and he had wanted to sound annoyed, perhaps even mean, but the words didn't came out right. Tony stared back at him, and then frowned; he opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, and opened it again.

“I… I don't know, I just…” He started, babbling a little, but once again he fell silent. He leaned back on the couch, and turned to look at the ceiling; the sound of Pepper's heels couldn't be heard anymore. “Look, let's… let's say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and the lion doesn't come. But along comes a giraffe.”

"What are you babbling about? How does that aswer my question?" 

Tony grimaced, taking another sip of his drink. He leaned forwards, putting his elbows over his knees and grabbing the glass with both of his hands. He scratched his bearded chin for a moment, as if looking for a reply, and then turned to look at Loki again. “Well… you can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe.”

Realization dawned on Loki's face, and for a moment he found himself staring at Tony, not knowing what to say. He turned to look at Howard's library, feeling a strange, dismal sensation in his stomach. “… That's pathetic.” He ended up saying, not turning to look at Tony anymore. The man just shrugged, taking one last sip of his drink before placing it in the coffee table besides Loki's.

After a few moments of hesitation, a long arm came to rest around Tony's middle, pulling him closer. He breathed deeply in, and let his head fall over Loki's right shoulder. It was then when he realized what was different, and Loki probably realized too, but at the moment he did not dare to put it a name. None of them said anything about the matter, not in that moment and not long after that; in fact they never mentioned it, until what happened with Pepper. It just didn't seem like the right thing to do.

Above them, right through the ceiling and into the top floor, the sounds of the beginning of the party started to ring loudly inside the house.

 


	4. Mars Collides with Venus.

For Loki, one of the strangest things that had been included in the schedule of the party had been, with no doubts, the contest for the Vespa. It also had been one of the things that had raised more excitement among the other guests. Only female competitors were admitted, and they had to be under 25 years; the ones under 21 needed an authorization from their parents. In that case, parents could easily mean boyfriends, friends or random strangers with a nice handwriting; nothing strange. The vehicle was, certainly, a tempting bait. It was blue and white, with excellent weight capacity, and equipped with black leather seats. It was a Vespa latest model that had raised squeals of ecstasy among the female guests when it was first presented on the parquet.

The emcee announced the opening of registration for the beauty contest, and an uncontrolled horde of young women overflowed the bounds of security and took over the stage, knocking down stands and chairs, making the floorboard grind and threatening to break down the makeshift structure. It was only for the timely intervention of Colonel Rhodes, who had been attentive to the spectacle, that the parquet didn't crumble apart. Without hesitation, he summoned the guards who were in sight and took the microphone to dictate the instructions and reorganize the row of girls.

Tony let out a tired sigh and leaned back on his chair. More than excited or amused, he seemed annoyed by the show. As if it were not the first time he saw something like this. For some reason, that made Loki smile. When Tony had said that they were going to a party in a Malibu Beach in the middle of the night, he had almost thought that he was joking. It turned out that he wasn't, if the sand between his toes and the loud sound of the waves were anything to go by.

They had been flying in the private jet for less than two hours, when suddenly it began to descend towards a large mansion; far too modern for Loki's taste, but with a view of Malibu's Ocean that, he had to admit, was very impressing. It was placed at the edge of a cliff, only 200 meters above a mossy bunch of rocks and the force of the frothy waves. It was a rather risky place to build such a large structure, but if its purpose was to mesmerize Tony's guests, it certainly fulfilled it well. Now that Loki could see it from the foot of the cliff, in the middle of the party that Tony had arranged in the beach, he could see it clearly.

Suddenly, he heard a wild cry coming from the stage, and he turned around to see one of the young competitors gripping a bouquet of roses with excitement, as a little shining tiara was placed above her head. She had, apparently, made it to the preliminaries. Loki laughed under his breath, and it was, unintentionally, a sound full of contempt. Once he had thought that Asgardian women were vain, until he got to meet Midgardian women and their scandalous beauty contests.

“How is it possible to have a voice so shrilling and annoying? Is it something you're born with, or you master it with time?” He found himself asking, frowning at the rather decadent act displayed in front of him. Another ten participants came to stand on the parquet, smiling and waving at the public as they marched in circles. They looked more like dolls than as actual women, and he found the view somehow disturbing.

“Uh… it's just for jokes, you know?” Tony answered. “They have to amuse us, somehow. That's why they are here.” He took the bottle of scotch that he had placed besides his folding chair and refilled his glass, not caring how its content spilled in the dry sand beneath his feet.

Loki frowned even more, turning around to face him fully. “Have you any idea how bad that sounded?” He said, taking the drink that Tony was offering him and taking a long sip.

“I know…” He trailed off then, sounding tired. “But that's the truth, isn't? That's what beauty contests are about. They know it, we know it; but we don't say it because it _does_ sound bad.”

“So, you think they know the men applauding at them only want to… how do you Americans say? … _get inside their pant_ s _?_ ” Loki asked, frowning slightly. The only woman he had ever met that was aware of these things was a warlock called Amora. Rather than seeing it as a disadvantage, she used it as a weapon against men. She told him once that the only advantage of being a woman was that deceive man became easier, precisely because they didn't thought a woman could defeat them. At the moment, while he was on his knees, with a knife to his throat and Amora's sweet voice on his ear, Loki couldn't agree more.

“Of course they know it.” Tony said, as if it was obvious. “Some of them feel _proud_ of it. They just don't like it when men rub it at their faces, because it makes them feel fake.” He insisted, stealing the drink from Loki's hand and taking a long sip.

The competitors were making a second march around the scaffold, waving and smiling behind red lips and long, dark eyelashes. They didn't seem particularly bright, but Loki had meet women who were far from stupid, even in a place like Midgard. He supposed that just like there were brainless men in the world, there were brainless women too.

“… Women are complicated.” Tony said flatly, sinking deeply into his seat.

“Are they?” 

“Yeah… Talk to them is complicated. Date them is complicated. And marry them!” Tony passed his hand through his hair, then, seeming troubled. He sighned, and let his head fall over the back of the chair. For a few moments, he just looked at the sky above; it was dark, and tiny white stars were shining in the distance. “The most terrifying day of your life is when you marry one.”

“… Nobody ever tells you that.”

“Yeah, because they don't want to face it.” He said, shaking his head and offering the glass to Loki again. He took it, his fingers lingering over Tony's for a few moments before pulling it away. Tony found himself staring as he put it between those thin and red lips that had been smiling at him with amusement during the whole evening. “Your life, as you know it… is gone. And then you realize that there were many things that you wanted to do... and now you can't.” He said, looking straight at Loki's green eyes. He stared right back, seeming very serious all of a sudden.

“The bounds of marriage never stop you, as far as I can see.” Loki eyed him for a few seconds, and then smiled; a rather mean and wicked thing, that made Tony feel suddenly naked. Completely transparent to the eyes of this strange and yet enthralling man. He licked his lips, and found himself thinking about a lot of things. He recalled Pepper _'_ s perfume the first time they had sex, and the way women used to mumble words in his ear as he crawled between their legs; he thought about his father, and how he looked down on him every time Tony did something that he didn't like. He thought about the first time he saw Loki, and how something strange and warm started to grow in his low stomach.

A hand was placed over Tony's knee and he went completely still, his thoughts going adrift. Loki's thumb began to draw circles over skin covered by layers of clothe, and his hand tracked a little higher, pulling the hem of Tony's pants slowly towards his knee. He knew what Loki wanted, and he knew what he wanted too; he just didn't know if he was brave enough to take it.

The intrusive hand stopped over his thigh, slowly sliding upward and inward, and Tony froze. He met Loki's eyes, and saw them dance with amusement. He sucked in a breath when a palm was pressed against his growing erection, and closed his eyes for a moment. A spark of excitement ran down his back, and he instinctively leaned forward, trying to press his lips against Loki's. Then he stopped, remembering where they were, and quickly backed away. He turned his gaze to the beauty contest again, and they both fell silent for a moment. He felt Loki's green eyes over him, and forced himself to stare back at them.

“Don't look so grim, Anthony. What is there to fear?” He asked and Tony felt his mouth go dry.

“Nothing, I just…I don't know if I should be doing this.” Tony answered, not knowing what else to say. He had run out of excuses. He couldn't find a good reason for not doing it, even if he knew that the old worries were still there, somewhere, lurking inside him.

“You are not that hopeless.” Loki said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just do whatever you want.”

Tony thought about that for a second. He looked around him; at the beauty contest, at the cheering crowd, and at the small Vespa standing in the middle of the stage. Rhodney seemed to have everything under control; he wondered if people would noticed it if he disappeared for a while. He scratched his forehead, and took the half empty glass from Loki's hand, drinking in one gulp the liquid courage that it held inside. He grimaced for a moment, and turned to look at Loki again.

“… You want to go upstairs?” He asked, gesturing at the Malibu House with his head. Loki looked at him for a moment, as if considering his request.

“… _I'd love to go upstairs.”_ He said, offering him a charming smile.

 


	5. A Taste of Silver.

The nocturnal swell, loud as it was, made the nights in Malibu unbearable for Loki. Every night, the wind rose in a long painful howl that crossed the sea surface, separating the waters and causing a noisy collision between foamy waves and solid rocks. He was a light sleeper and always woke up to the sound, even after months leaving in the southwest of California. He couldn't help it; he was used to the silent nights of Asgardian cities, where one can only hear the light chirping of the crickets and the occasional song of a night bird. He had gone to sleep merely an hour ago, and still owed several hours of rest to the previous day; however, he knew that even if he tried to, he would not fall asleep again. Not until the tide came down.

He thought about getting out of bed (to prepare coffee, maybe, or breakfast; or just to stand outside in the balcony, to watch the slow rise of the sun) but when he tried to stand up he faltered, realizing that his body was still trapped between Tony's strong, sturdy arms. After one or two hours of sleep they hadn't let go of him. He abandoned his efforts, strangely touched, and buried himself deeper in the soft mattress. He looked down at Tony; his eyes already accustomed to the dim light. He found it curious when he noticed that he was not snoring.

“Are you awake?” He asked, in a low voice.

“No…” Was the sleepless reply, though Tony didn't bother to open his eyes. The sound of the clock ticking and the chirping of crickets outside the window rang loudly in the room. “What time is it?”

“Four o'clock… Almost four o'clock.” Loki responded, after slowly lifting his head to see the clock in the bedroom desk. It was an old family heirloom that always bounced annoying white flashes in the dark. In the distance he could hear the barking of a pack of beach dogs. He frowned slightly; he had never heard such a thing during his nights in the coast. At least not while being in Malibu.

“P.M or A.M?” Tony asked sleepily, wondering if he had lost his flight to New York again. He had been out of the city for three days now, and he needed to come back as soon as possible to preside over a meeting of the board. He had already postponed it for too long, and Pepper would get angry if he was delayed again.

“You can't be serious.” Loki's voice was light, a little playful, and despite the late hours, he didn't seem to be tired or sleepy.

“You'll be surprised.” Tony responded, smiling at him. Loki just rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath and slowly crawling on top of him; his long curls were still wet for the cold shower he took before going to bed. Tony shifted to get more comfortable, moving the sheets away.

“It's passed midnight.”

“Oh… good.” Those were good news, technically. However, he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice; he would have liked to stay, even if it was just for a day more. He didn't know if it was because he was going to miss the peace and quiet of a life in the beach, or if it was just for parting from the company that he always found there.

“What time is your flight?” Loki asked, resting the weight of his body over his right elbow and entangling his fingers between long dark locks.

“13:30 to New York.” Tony responded, sitting upright in the bed. He flinched slightly; the vertebrae of his back made a strange sound, as if returning to place.

Loki groaned slowly, as he always did when he was complaining. His cold white fingers gripped Tony around the waist and dragged him on top of himself; the man just let himself be moved without protest. “I have not seen you for almost two weeks, and now you are leaving again.”

“I know…” Tony said, and his voice came out unexpectedly tired. “I'll be gone for just a few days. I promise.” In that position, he could hear the slight variations of Loki's breathing; how the air came in and out of his lungs, passing through his throat. He had a deep voice that made a buzzing echo through all his body when he talked, as a sounding board or a hollow cave.

Loki huffed under his breath, as if offended, and the vibrations ticked Tony in the right ear. “You always say that…”

“It's business, you know how it is… Look, if I had more time I would…” Tony opened his mouth to try and say something (maybe to defend himself, maybe not) but Loki cut him off by placing two long, pale fingers over his parched lips.

“I'm not your wife, Anthony. You don't need to explain yourself to me.” He said, shifting his weight to his other elbow. Tony just frowned at him, taken aback. He was not used to easy leeways. Not in these type of conversations.

Loki was looking intensely at him now, somehow differently than before. He took him by the shoulders, turning him slowly to lay face down over the mattress. Tony felt too tired, and didn't do anything to stop him. “What are you doing?” He asked, frowning sleepily. Loki just shrugged; sitting cross legged in the empty space his legs had left on the mattress.

“Nothing. Just relax.” He answered, running his hands over Tony's back. Cold fingertips were buried in that soft place between shoulders and neck, gently massaging in concentric circles. Tony shivered a little, susceptible to the wandering fingers that were travelling his skin, finding the tension in his muscles and making it slowly fade away.

Two hands came down to work on the tight knots of his back. Loki pressed down in the middle of it then, and Tony could feel how something popped back into place. He was not sure why, but he had not realized how much his body had ached in the last weeks until those cold fingers came down to rest over his bare skin. It was not just about the massage, he knew; he had felt that many other times, in different situations.

Soon enough, the ghostly fingers untying him one loop at a time began to touch more intensely, burying in his skin in a careful, almost sensual way. He wasn't sure if it was all in his mind; if it was just his imagination, stubbornly vivid sometimes, taking full flight again. Then he felt a cold finger draw a trail down the back of his neck, making him shiver, and Tony just _knew_  he was been teased.

“Don't think that I don't know what you are doing.” He said under his breath, feeling how Loki began to get closer and closer to him; carefully, as if they hadn't been as close as two bodies can be earlier that night.

“I'm not doing anything.” Loki said, and the delight in his voice was not Tony's imagination. His focus began to blur in the combination of gentle hands and his own libido, and soon he found himself yearning once again for the touch of another body.

Thin soft lips came down to kiss him in the back of his neck; Loki's cold fingers were now running dubiously through his skin, not caressing muscles or untying knots anymore. Tony turned around slowly, placing Loki on top of himself, and leaned forwards to peck him quickly on the lips. One. Two. Three times. He put his hands over his lover’s chest, slightly caressing a nipple, and slowly made a path towards his navel.

“What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.” Tony asked, unbuttoning Loki's pants. The sound made by the lowering zipper ringed in the silence of the room. Two thumbs were pressed hard against his abdomen; a steady pressure that was dragged down to the waist of his pants, reaching the V of his hips.

“I want you to touch me.” Loki murmured in his ear. A callous hand reached between his pants and made a slight pressure; just fingers traveling up and down, as if they were marking a path. Loki threw his head back, moaning softly. The sight prompted Tony to lean forward and place a trail of wet kisses down his neck.

“You do?” He asked, as a tiny smirk unfolded on his face. Loki began to thrust against the hand holding him in short careless movements that made something twist in Tony's low stomach. He took his lover by the waist, taking off his pants and briefs and throwing them to the floor.

“I _really_ do.” Loki gasped, slowly straddling him. For a moment, Tony just stared at him (at those deep green eyes that looked at him with excitement in the dark), silently running his fingers through lean firm thighs. Loki's hands came down to unbutton his pants as well, making him stand a little over the mattress to take them off. Soon, his briefs went for the same path.

“Say it more sexy.” He asked breathlessly, in a way too edgy voice.

“ _I want you to touch me.”_ Loki repeated, in a slower and fluctuating manner, nipping at Tony's ear. Hands began to travel through his thighs and ribs, lingering over shoulders and throat. Loki surrounded Tony's neck with his arms, pushing his slightly trembling hips towards him. There was something white, warm and viscous that had begun to drift between his stomach and his lover's chest.

Leaning back on the bed, Tony reached behind him to open the drawer of his bedside table, keeping their balance with difficulty. He felt Loki placing himself over his cock, grinding against him slightly, and almost dropped the lobe and condom that he had found there. Loki kissed him, then; a slow and tender motion that made Tony falter for a moment. When he opened the tube of lubricant, placing the condom on its place, he moaned slightly; the green in his lover's eyes had been almost completely erased by the black of his pupils.

Loki breathed deeply, inhaling the strong scents still lingering on the sheets; the smells of soap, oil and expensive cologne that over time had become so familiar to him. Tony's skin was pricked with heat and the coiled tension of arousal. A huge swollen intrusion made its way between his legs, pushing slowly at the beginning, then fastening its pace; spreading him open and filling him up. A callous hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, going up and down in a steady sway.

“You feel really hard.” He said, looking right at Tony's big brown eyes. Tony slipped out of him, in a smooth and easy friction, making Loki groan at the empty space that he left behind. “What were you thinking, that put you in such a state?” The wet but hot tip of his lover's cock touched him slightly, tracing a few circles before thrusting back in. He was filled once more, something hard pushing at every soft wall inside him.

“Mmn, I was thinking about you.” Came out the rusty gasp, as Tony traced with his fingers a complex trail down his back. Loki moved his hips back and forth to feel his lover's cock shift inside him, pressing hard against his flesh. He moved back, feeling it slip inside, and then pushed down. Tony swallowed hard, his forehead resting over his collarbone.

“Thinking about me… doing what?” Loki folded his arms around his back, pressing the metal circle of the Arc Reactor against his chest. Tony breathed against the hollow in his throat, and his fingers found the small of his back, tucking into the inward curve there.

“Thinking about you, and that handsome face between my legs.” He said lowly, biting hard the lobe of Loki's ear. He tensed, starting to bear his lover's weight now, and lifted him slightly to bring him down again. Loki actually laughed, tucking his head between his neck and shoulder.

“Ah, well. Maybe we can do that later.” Loki huffed in a soft laugh. Callous hands moved to slide under him, cupping that nice place were cheek meet thigh. Tony lifted him again, more firmly this time, his cock pulling almost completely out of him before coming back in. Loki gasped; feeling a stab of heat hit his stomach. “Oh, dear, I love how you fill me up.” He said breathlessly, biting Tony's neck lightly, feeling how the steady sway around his cock became faster.

Outside, the night sky was being colored by a light, yellow hue. The wind was howling in an rough, tired voice, rushing silently towards the house windows; the turbulent waters that during nights slammed against the white rocks of the cliff began to slowly calm down.


	6. Voting for Leftists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the Tony Stark Has Issues tag? It's for this chapter.

Tony woke up in his bed, sometime after three o'clock, feeling disconcerted. Experienced through dull senses, his first moments of consciousness were blurry and somehow confusing. There was a red light coming out of the window, probably from a passing car. The acrid taste of alcohol was still lingering in his mouth, making him long for toothpaste and a brush teeth. He felt the white sheets of the bed plastered to his sweaty skin, and he could tell that he was naked; covered in the dull smell of a cologne that he knew wasn't his. He knew where he was, what he had done, and who was sleeping in the bed beside him, but he didn't know how to feel about it.  

He needed to wake up. He was tired and it was late, but he couldn't stay there. Tony took the blanket off himself and shifted into a seated position. The room was cold, and he felt a shiver run down his naked back. The bottle of scotch he had been sharing with Loki the night before was resting on top of the nightstand, completely empty, and his briefs where still lying in the marble floor, where he had carelessly threw them once they've made it to the bedroom. Tony felt his face grow warmer at the memory: he was not normally shy when it came to sex, but this time was different.

Clearing his throat, he stood from the bed and left the room, struggling not to glance back at the figure lying on his bed. He was used to being the ' _one who leaves first',_ so he tried not to think too much about it. The only difference, he told himself while walking down the hall, only wearing the pants of his suit and an unbuttoned dress shirt, was that this time there wasn't any assistant around to appease the feelings of hurt.

Cautiously, cradling his head with one hand to calm his growing headache, Tony walked towards the living room, following a corridor lined by paintings and some other portraits. One in particular called his attention, and he stopped to examine the painted face of Howard Stark. He looked at the brown clear eyes that seemed to stare right through him, judging him, and Tony couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself.

 

* * *

 

Looking around, Tony realized that the living room looked much the same as the night before. The walls were still white, the carpet was still blue; the windows were still lead-lined and the glass panels were still stained. It seemed wrong to him, because the world around him was still the same, while he felt completely different. It was four o'clock and Tony was drinking. Sitting in the bar of his living room, he poured himself the remaining drops of a bottle of whiskey. That's where Loki would find him thirty minutes later; leaning against the marble counter and staring at his empty glass with red stained eyes. He would barely make a sound while entering the room, and Tony would not look up to see him. At the beginning, he would not utter a word.

Loki sat in front of him, still in silence, and Tony didn't dare to look up. Suddenly, he remembered why once he had asked Pepper _to_  take care of his one night stands while he ran to hide to his workshop. He hadn't known how to deal with this sort of situations, and after all this time things hadn't changed. None of them said anything for a while, and Tony had to wonder if this was how the rest of the night was going to go by. From where he was sitting, he could see through the glass table of the bar and catch a glimpse of Loki's bare feet. They were strangely small, for such a tall man.

Tony felt more than saw how Loki took another bottle from the drawer where he kept his liquor, and heard him pouring himself a glass. That was when, finally, he decided to speak, and his choice of words made Tony frown. “Do you want to play a game?” He asked, in that deep, throaty and over confident voice that had called Tony's attention the first time they'd meet. That made him look up, for some reason. Now that Loki was out of bed, once again wearing a tie, a suit and holding a walking cane, he looked more like the man he had met only eight nights ago in a party of the company. Somehow, when Loki had been under him, panting and shifting and giggling whenever Tony started to look hesitant, he had seemed a completely different person.

“… What kind of game?” Tony asked with narrowed eyes, when he finally found his voice. He didn't sound as excited (or even pleased) by Loki's presence as he had been the night before, and his companion had probably noticed. However, a small grin remained on his face, as if he couldn't find it in himself a reason to care about it.

 “' _I never'._ ” Loki responded, refilling Tony's glass. He stared for a second, wondering how Loki could look so well rested after one or maybe two hours of sleep; his hair and clothes perfectly arranged, his smile wide and his eyes sharp. Tony could bet he didn't look half as well.

“… I have no idea what that is.” He said after a moment of silence. He wasn't in the mood for games, but as guilty or confused as he felt for what had happened last night, he didn't want to take it out on Loki. He was the one who should have thought things better before doing them, he mused. With the kind of life he've had until now, he should have remembered that the burning thrill of a night desire could only hope to become a shameful memory the morning after.

Loki smiled widely, and gestured at him with his drink. “Call it a way to… get to know each other better.” He said as way of explanation. Tony didn't seem tempted at first, but in the end he decided to comply. He was already drinking, anyway, what was wrong in making a game of it? Loki smiled, and started to explain him the game. “It's easy.” He said. “You say ' _I_ _never'_  and then you finish the sentence. If it's something you did, you drink. If it's something you never did, you don't drink.” Tony nodded at the short explanation, finding it not so different from other drinking games he had played during college, and decided to go first.

“Okay. I've… I don't know. I've… never been to Disneyland.” He ended up saying, mostly because he couldn't come up with anything else; his mind still felt tired and sluggish. Loki huffed out a laugh at that, as if he had expected it. Tony took a long sip from his drink, feeling the cold liquid falling down his throat, while Loki didn't even touch his glass.

“Well, isn't that sad?” He said, in a dry voice. Once again, he was avoiding Loki's gaze, choosing instead to look down at the table and at the small feet he could see through the crystal. Loki, on the other side, kept looking at him with a strange concentration.

“… I never wear red and gold together.” He said, perhaps hoping that some taunting would get Tony out of his grim mood. The man, indeed, raised his head at the mockery, not doing as much as raising a single brown eyebrow. Once again, he took a sip from his glass, while Loki kept ignoring his own. For a while, the game continued like this; a play of taunts, smirks and quiet laughter that, despite everything, Tony found himself enjoying.

 “… I've never voted for leftists.” He said at some point, wondering if, on top of everything, he had made the terrible mistake of bedding a natural enemy. Later, when he would look at his credit in the bank and realize how much he spent in a weekly basis on his lover's whims, he would think himself stupid for even consider it. Fortunately, none of them drank, and laughter erupted in the room.

Loki cleared his throat, then, trying to regain his composure, and for a moment just stared at Tony. “I've never voted.” He affirmed, and when he didn’t take a sip from his glass of whiskey, Tony's eyebrows flared up in surprise. “Really? Like… _never?_ ” He asked, finding hard to believe that a man in his early thirties had never exercised his right to vote. Loki only shrugged, that characteristic tiny smile still lingering on his face.

“I'm just not interested in those things.” He said calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It wasn't the first time that Tony had heard someone say that, when answering why they didn't want to vote. Most of them were women, thought; women maintained by their husbands, who believed that they had enough with taking care of their home, their children and their bank accounts, and that they didn't need, on top of everything, to worry about politics. Tony decided to keep that thought to himself.

“ _My god,_ you're such an irresponsible citizen!” He said in a dry voice while shaking his head, only the amusement in his eyes letting Loki know that he was joking. He had already learnt that Tony Stark was incapable of laughing at his own jokes and, therefore, always told them with a dry, expresionless voice. Somehow, that just made them more amusing.

“Talking about irresponsible people.” Loki answered back. Tony laughed at this, and he laughed as well. Games of bickering had always been Tony's favorite games (besides those that involved liquor or drugs) and he had just discovered that Loki was very good at them. None of them seemed to notice how time was ticking by, and when their laughter finally died, and they were just looking at each other in a comfortable silence, Tony realized that they had already finished the bottle of whiskey.

He took the bottle in one hand, not feeling as dizzy as he could have, and when he next spoke, his eyes remained fixed on the old label, because this time he couldn't bring himself to look up. “I'd never slept with another man… until last night.” He said it a rather low voice, but he knew that Loki heard him. He stared at his glass of whiskey, half empty already, and wished he could take a sip from it, just to prove a point. But he didn't. After a few seconds, he looked up and found Loki's green eyes staring back at him. He didn't seem neither surprised nor amused; whatever his face was showing, Tony couldn't read it.

Loki shook his head slowly, a corner of his mouth lifting up in something that wasn't quite a smile, and took a large sip from his drink. “Can't say I'm surprised…” Was what Tony said, leaning against the back of his chair. There was a smile on his face, but it didn't seem as amused as the ones Loki had seen so far. “Your turn.” He said, then, raising his glass towards his companion.

Loki licked his lips, and leaned against the table, drink still in hand. “I've been with many women… but I've never liked any of them.” Once again, he restrained himself from drinking, choosing instead to stare at Tony's way, waiting to see his reaction. Tony meant to drink, because he fervently wanted to believe that Loki's assumptions weren't true (because they were assumptions, meant to tease him, taunt him: decipher him as a person, a human, a _man_ ) but at the last moment, when the edge of his glass touched his lips, he stopped. He seemed to think it for a moment, and finally, Tony swallowed hard and put his drink down.

Loki raised an eyebrow, and Tony felt stupid. Stupid, because that was the closest he had ever been to say _it_ out loud, and the one who got to see him spilling the beans was nothing but a stranger. A one night stand that if everything went accord to the plan, he'll never see again in his life, or would at least become one of the not so few persons that he'll have to ignore during night galas. Tony gripped his glass tightly, clearing his throat, and decided that if Loki was going to play to make assumptions, he would not leave him playing alone.

“I've never been married.” He said, and this time it was his turn to see how Loki's expression shifted, ever so slightly. Promptly, he took a sip of his drink, not worrying because he was not reveling anything that the man didn't know already. At the beginning, his Loki seemed at a lost, as if he had no idea what to do now that he was the focus of the game. It wasn't long before he recovered, thought, and not with little hesitation, he took a sip of whiskey as well.

“Several marriages. All of them short.” He confessed without a hint of shame, almost smiling at Tony's way. If he were a lesser man, he would have thought that the subject didn't bother him. But he was a man committed to details, and he noticed how Loki's lips turned slightly downwards when the word marriage was mentioned. How his noise wrinkled, in an almost unperceptive way.

This picked Tony's interest; so far, Loki had been the one making guesses about him, and it felt good to turn things around for a change. It made him feel like he had the upper hand again. So Tony cleared his throat, trying to dissipate the slow dizziness that usually came with a few cups of good whiskey, and once again gambled for a wild guess. “I've never had a one night stand… until last night.” He said, arching a curious eyebrow, and could literally see how Loki's expression changed from surprised to displeased. After a few moments of silence Tony drank, feeling narrowed green eyes fixed on him, perhaps studying him, perhaps not. Loki didn't do as much as glance at his drink and grunt lowly.

 “…I've never called in a private jet to pick me up, just to impress my conquest of the night.” Loki answered back, leaning against the table and gripping tightly at his glass of whiskey. It was Tony's turn to look displeased, and although it was barely noticeable on his face, it was evident on the way his posture changed. It had been a rather vain move, he knew, but he had hoped that in the amazement of the moment, Loki wouldn't realize that the jet had been brought solely to impress him. He had been wrong, but he drank either way, because he knew that by now try to lie was pointless.

As Loki stood from his chair and started to walk towards him, Tony licked his lips in a nervous manner, and unconsciously crossed his legs. He remembered how just hours ago, Loki had approached him in that same manner, before putting his hands on his chest and pushing him into his bed. He remembered soft lips, and warm skin and low voices, and shivered.

“I've never arrived to a beach party in the middle of the night, just seeking to have sex with the host.” He said, then, looking up at Loki. For a moment the man only stared, his shinning green eyes giving nothing away, besides a dull hint of amusement. He drank in the end (a large sip that made him cringe when placing the glass on the counter) before his eyes drifted from Tony's face to his neck, and then to his chest. They lingered there for quite a while, taking in the dull blue light that hours ago, when laying wide awake in a bed besides Tony, he had struggle not to touch.

“… I've never been to war.” Loki said, and his voice came out low and throaty, making a shiver run down Tony's back. He licked his lips, feeling them suddenly too dry, and gripped his glass tightly. Later, Tony would wonder why Loki would ask such a question, when it was public knowledge that he had indeed been involved in those sorts of things; he would wonder if he had only wanted to make him say it out loud. But at the moment, the only thing he could do was sigh in a low voice, and confirm with a sour sip of old whiskey what they both already knew. Loki drank as well, and for some reason, Tony didn't felt surprised.

"… I've never killed a man.” Tony held his breath, if only for the briefest of moments, and watched something unknown darken Loki's features. For some time, they only stared at each other, hesitant to make any other movement. Tony waited, hoping to find something in Loki's face that would tell him what to do; whether to be honest or tell a lie. Honesty could be freeing, he knew, when used with the right person; with the wrong one, it could become rather expensive. A lie would be safest, but a part of Tony knew that he couldn't feed up on lies anymore.

He drank, in the end. After some moments of doubt, Loki drank as well.

“Well, look at that.” Tony said, leaning against the back of his chair. “Seems we've got more in common than I first thought.” He let a big smile fall cross his face, and stared right at Loki's green eyes, expecting a reaction. It didn't came. Loki didn't return the smile; he didn't seem happy, but he didn't seem angry either. For some reason, that calmness written all over Loki's eyes, face and posture made the heaviness in Tony's chest a little lighter.

“You want me to leave?” Loki asked, because now that the alcohol was finished, and the fact that he had been poking at unhealed wounds the whole night become more obvious, it seemed like the right thing to ask. Tony looked at him up and down for a moment, before a shy index finger came up to brush Loki's left thigh. He felt disconcerted, confused, perhaps scared. But he also felt excited; because he knew that if he had wanted Loki to leave, he would have rejected his invitation for a game; he would have taken him out of the mansion as soon as he had dressed himself. But he didn't.

“No, I don't want you to leave.” Tony said, and it came out rusty and strange. It had been too long since he had wanted something. Someone. And he didn't know what to do with that anymore. He didn't know why he wanted to do something that he was going to regret; that would only bring him shame and self-loathing in the morning. He didn't know why he wanted to trip over the same stone. He just knew he wanted to, and that he could deal with the consequences later.

So, when Loki bended down to kiss him (slowly and steady, just like the first time, while tripping with each other legs while walking down the hallway) Tony returned the gesture, taking him by the back of his knees to place him over his lap. His arms came to rest around Loki's waist, and the kiss was deepened, pushing him further into the seat. Suddenly, the world was about feeling and sensation, and everything else just faded in the background. There was just Loki's fingers slowly removing his belt, and a warm tongue licking the shell of his ear, like a promise of the pleasure to come. Loki holding him firmly and kissing him slowly, and a tempting bulge growing harder against his left thigh.

Tony knew he would regret this in the morning, but for something reason he couldn't bring himself to care.


	7. Epilogue

That night, Tony was in a particularly bad mood. That time of the year in which he had to attend to countless night galas to meet with his business associates had begun and the intensive timetable of cheap wine, poor company and mindless chatter was wearing him tired. He already had to endure a meeting with six members of the board (all of them conservative old men who only ever talked about their shares on the stock market of Wall Street and their luck in their tedious games of golf that took place every Sunday), a discussion with an annoying Ambassador of the Middle East who didn't seem to know what ' _out of the business'_ meant, and a very unpleasant encounter with an environmentalist lawyer that ended up with his suit soaked in red wine and a noisy call to security.

He was currently talking with Pepper in a corner of the bar _,_ trying to pass unnoticed for a while and take some time to gather strength. As usual, his wife was worried about the various arrangements she had made for the party and whether or not they were working as well as she had expected. Tony wasn't very interested in those details, thought, and as she rambled about the decoration of the lounge, the entertainment she had picked and the type of beverages the bar was serving, he found himself drifting away, lost in the surly tangle of his own thoughts.

It had been a while since the last time he had seen Loki. Nearly two weeks, to be exact. Ever since then Tony hadn't had the time to even pick up the phone, and prideful as he was, Loki would not pick it up either.

Sometimes this mutual ignorance took place between them, but Tony knew better than to worry about it. He already knew that his lover wouldn't resent him for a few days of absence, as others had done it in the past. Loki understood that sometimes his mind would slip away, making him forget not just about important events and responsibilities, but about important people too. It was something only momentary, and sooner or later all his relations went back to their natural course. At least, this one did.

Tony was considering whether he should or should not call Loki once the party was over when his wife's shrilling voice derailed his train of thought. “Tony, are you listening to me?” She asked, apparently offended by his silence. He turned to look at her, seeming startled, and then hurried to smile charmingly at the beautiful but faddy woman; that was his costume whenever he did something that might have enraged her.

“Of course I'm listening.” He said, putting a hand inside his pocket. “You were saying that…” He started, but he trailed off quickly, realizing that he didn't have anything accurate to say. Tony knew well that his wife could change from one subject to the other in a matter of seconds, and if he tried to guess and got it wrong he would only make her angrier. “I'm sorry. What were you saying?” He asked instead, offering an apologetic smile. Pepper pursed her lips, then, seeming displeased.

“Nevermind.” She said, taking a large sip from her cup of wine and looking away. Tony was turn between feeling guilty for ignoring her and being annoyed by her attitude.

He wasn't used to be around Pepper anymore. They only ever meet to talk about work and to fight over petty matters. Because of the tight schedule they had and all the travels they had to make between New York and Malibu to keep the company going, he couldn't even say if they were living together anymore. Tony didn't know how to make her happy, and he didn't know how to cheer her up either.

“Come on, don't get mad. I was just distracted.” He said, trying to excuse himself. Pepper only rolled her eyes, crossing her arms above her chest. She was wearing an uncharacteristically short dress that night; one that made her legs seem longer and her breasts look wider. For a moment Tony wondered if he was supposed to notice that earlier. If she had wanted him to notice.

“You are always distracted, Tony. It's like you aren't even here.” She said, not meeting his eyes. Her lips were forming a tight, angry line that made her seem older, and her small blue eyes looked troubled. Tony opened his mouth to try and say something, but quickly he realized that he didn't have anything to say. He didn't feel like starting a fight right now, and he knew that the best way to avoid one was to stop talking altogether. It was always the same dance between them. He knew it well by now.

 “What? You aren't going to say anything?” Pepper turned to look at him again when he stayed silent, seeming angrier than before. She had never been one to scream when she got into an argument, but Tony knew that wouldn't stop her from slapping him if he said the wrong thing at the wrong time. He didn't back away, thought. There was something angry and strange in Pepper's eyes that he had never seen before, and it was starting to make him nervous.

“You are always so talkative with everyone else. So gleeful and full of life. Why do you become so silent, when you are with me?” She asked, and Tony had a hard time trying to figure out whether those words were spoken in anger or with sadness. Pepper's voice was sad, but at the same time she looked furious.

For a couple of seconds, he couldn't find in himself the strength to open his mouth to say something. He just stared at his wife; at her lovely red dress, her slightly pink lips and her small blue eyes covered in mascara.

“I don't know, I guess… I guess I can't come up with anything to say.” He told her, finding that for once the truth was the best answer he could give. Pepper made something strange with her mouth; a grin that didn't look happy, but wasn't necessarily disdainful. Her eyes were low again, and her fingers were fidgeting with the front of her dress.

“Anthony, who's Loki?” She asked, and those three words alone were enough to drain all the color from Tony's face. He stood still as a stone before her, feeling how his heart began to beat increasingly fast. He felt scared. Scared as a child who has been caught in the middle of a devilry, or a man facing the aftermaths of a poorly planned crime. His hands were sweating and his throat felt dry.

“Where did you hear that name?” He asked, trying to keep his voice in control. He had long ago learned to use an expressionless mask to face this type of situations, and a calm voice was an important part of that façade. It was the teaching that long and tedious discussions with members of the board, angry girlfriends and unreasonable clients had left him, and this time he didn't felt any type of guilt for using it with Pepper. Right then, she was just like them. An angry entity looking for a nerve to strike. A place to hurt.  

“I heard you talking by the phone the other night. That's what you called her.” She said, emphasizing the last word, almost with disdain. She seemed angry, almost furious beyond the composed surface, but she kept her voice low; it was almost a whisper. Tony guessed that she didn't want to call the attention.

He found that he didn't care if people heard them, thought. He didn't care how furious she was either. That last statement had made a wave of relief wash upon him, allowing him to breathe normally again. Pepper didn't knew anything. Not really. His secret was safe; at least, the worst part of it.

“It's nothing. I was just talking to a friend.” He said, remaining as lackluster as he had ever been in his entire life. He was gripping his long forgotten glass of wine tighter than he should, and his dry lips were forming a tight line in his face that made him seem angry. He felt as if he were in a trail, and at the slightest display of emotion he would fail it. Pepper couldn't find out about this. It would be his end, if she ever got to find out.

“It didn't sound like you were talking to a friend.” She responded, slightly shaking her head. Tony could see how her eyes were beginning to shine in a way that had nothing to do with the light of the room, and he couldn't help but wonder for how long she had been suspecting. How long she had waited to make him this question. He hadn't talked to Loki in a few weeks already; the conversation she was talking about wasn't recent.

“I'm sorry, are you accusing me of something?” He asked, narrowing his eyes in a way that he knew Pepper hated. She paused, and for a moment Tony could actually see her breathing in the air that later would come out as an angry snap. He waited for it to come; even braced himself. But in the end, Pepper didn't get to say anything else. A strong voice, flooded with a nice foreign accent came from somewhere on Tony's left, and before he knew it the Italian ambassador was in front of him, smiling widely at Pepper.

For some reason, Tony thought that she would break right then. That she would cry and scream and shove the poor Italian away with all her strength, as if he were the cause of all her problems. But she didn't. Once again, she was in control of herself. She was polite and calm, and ever smiling, and so disgustingly fake Tony felt his stomach churn.

The ambassador was talking to her in his mother tongue, not in English as it was costume in this type of meetings, and Tony couldn't understand a word of what they were saying; Italian wasn't one of the languages he had learned in college. It seemed like they were talking about something important, though, because after a few seconds Pepper nodded quickly at him and turned around to walk away, as if nothing had happened. The look she sent at his way before leaving, thought, was enough for him to know that they weren't done talking. This would come back to haunt him sooner or later, he knew.

For some reason, Tony didn't care. At the moment, as he saw her quickly walking away, disappearing in the crowd of suited up strangers, he was reminded once again that he wasn't in top of his wife's priorities; not even when she was angry. 

He was most probably on the bottom of the list.

 

* * *

 

“I think my marriage is over.” He would tell Loki later that night, as he leaned back on the railing of the balcony, putting his cigarette between his lips and letting out a lonely grey cloud. He hadn't smoked in quite some time (it had been years, in fact; he had left the juvenile old habit when he finished college) but after what had happened earlier that evening in the night gala, he felt that he deserved it. Loki turned to look at him, slightly arching his eyebrows. He didn't seem surprised.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, in that cautious tone that he usually used whenever Tony's marriage was brought into the conversation. Neither rude nor indifferent. Just wary. Tony stared at him for a few moments, wondering whether it was wise or not to talk about this with Loki. He wasn't an irrational man, and he knew he wasn't one to lose his composure easily, but talking about his soon to be over marriage with him made him feel uneasy. Maybe because, indirectly, he was the cause of this dilemma.  

“… Because Pepper knows that I'm cheating on her.” He responded, shrugging lazily and looking away. Loki frowned, then, seeming startled. The motion was barely perceptible, and if it was not for the way he started fidgeting with his walking cane, drawing concentric circles in the tiles of the floor beneath them, Tony might have thought that he hadn't hear him. Not knowing why he cared about Loki's reaction, he turned on his heels to look at the raging city before him.

They were in the Penthouse of Stark Tower, a couple of blocks away from the club in which the night gala had been hosted. It was already past midnight, but New York City was as bright and vibrant as ever. Even from that height Tony could see how cars and pedestrians passed down the streets, as ants silently crossing their well known tunnels; a complex circuit always working between chaos and harmony. The heinous sounds coming from below never stopped. At nights they were always there; in the balcony, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, always confusing him. Taking sleep, rest and comfort away from him. For some reason, Tony found himself missing the Malibu House, and the stillness that always surrounded it.

“… You told her?” Loki asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Not exactly…” Tony responded, not turning to look at him. “But she's a smart woman. She was going to find out sooner or later.” He threw the ashes of his cigarette through the balcony, staining the white paint as he did so. The acrid taste of the smoke made him feel better, somehow. The knot in his low stomach that had been haunting him for over an hour now was finally subsiding, leaving behind only a mild dizziness. His muscles felt less strained. More relaxed. However, the feeling that he had just done something horribly wrong refused to leave him.

“And you are alright with this? With your marriage ending?”

Loki was closer now; leaning against the railing beside him, but not quite touching him. Tony could see from the corner of his eye that he wasn't looking at him either, but at the bright lights of the city below. “Yeah, I'm fine with it.” He said, and at this point he didn't knew if he was lying or if he was telling the truth. A part of him felt almost relived, but somehow he felt sad too.

“I mean, as long as she doesn't find out who you are… it's fine.” Tony shook his head a little, feeling his throat dry. The remains of his cigarette were slowly burning away, drawing threads of gray smoke into the night sky. He threw it away, letting it fall to the colorful void of New York City.

He felt a hand circling his wrist, then. Only resting over the sleeve of his dress shirt, not quite touching the skin. Almost unconsciously, he looked up.

In the dead of the night, Loki's face was raised above his and hidden mostly from view. His eyes were bright and attentive, and his lips were tightly shut; the rise and fall of his calm and slow. In moments like this he looked very young (at least, younger than Tony) and yet, there was something in his features that seemed lined with an unnatural experience. He really didn't know how to explain it, but there was something in the way Loki moved, in how he talked and how he looked that made him seem older than he was. Even then, he didn't look peaceful. He seemed calm in the outside, but his face was turned down in a frown and his brow was furrowed in what looked like worry.

Tony felt, for some reason, that the wrist his lover was holding had begun to tingle. He wanted to ask Loki what he thought about this. Shake answers out of him, if it was necessary. But somehow, he felt that it wasn't his place to do so. Loki rarely talked about himself when they were together, and when Tony dared to ask, he was purposely vague or cryptic in his answers. He didn't mind listening to Tony rambling about himself or talking about his problems, thought. And whenever he felt sad, angry or just no in the mood, Loki seemed to take great pleasure in being the one to cheer him up. It seemed unfair, now that Tony thought about it. It left a rather bitter taste in his mouth.

He could have said something about this. He could have complained and reproached him, the whole night if it came to that. He could have said that he was done with Loki's mysterious ways; that if this was going to end his marriage, he needed more than silences and half-truths. But he didn't. Tony just reached out, placing his hand around the back of Loki's neck, and stayed silent. He ran a thumb over a small orbed ear, and then went higher, easing the frown that was forming in a dark but thin eyebrow. 

A kiss came and went. The hand fell.

The moment was over.

Later, they would lay side by side on Tony's bed, not knowing what to do now that their hazardous affair had been discovered. “What do we do now?” Tony would ask, lighting up his second (and probably not last) cigarette of the night. Loki would look at him thoughtfully, and after a few moments of silence would turn to look back at the ceiling, pursing his lips. “How would I know?” He would answer, shrugging lazily and turning around on the bed.

Tony wouldn't get angry at the dismissal, and he wouldn't ask further either. He would only take a short draw from his cigarette and then blow out the smoke, letting the odd taste fill in his throat and mouth. Later, he would hand it over to Loki and watch him do the same. The night would go and the morning would come, and still they would not know what to do.

It didn't really matter. They had a lifetime to figure it out.

There was no need to rush things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter of the story. Hope you guys have liked it, even thought it was kind of simple/short. Thanks for coming along the ride and if you enjoyed what you read please leave kudos!))


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